


Back to the Start

by CallMeAtlas (LyNguyen05)



Series: Seasons running wild. [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, brotp! Joshvern that isn't really brotp, okay so the joshvern isn't the main i guess but, proud mom, wow even more angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-11 10:39:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7888054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyNguyen05/pseuds/CallMeAtlas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joshua is afraid of many places including the subway. People think its because he's afraid of seeing someone there, when in truth, he just doesn't want to know who isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back to the Start

**Author's Note:**

> part two of my thing. rip.

_September 2, 2016 // 5,648 words_

* * *

 

 

_December._

  
 

The plane ride is quiet, and Joshua wishes his mind would be too for goddamn once.

  
 

_February._

  
 

"Joshua, you coming man?"

 

Joshua smiles at his friends before shaking his head. They look to one another before shrugging and saying their goodbyes. This was a normal occurrence, something he knows people question - except, they don't, at least not to his face. They all want to go places, adventures and such or late night exploring of shops they’ve already gone to. Joshua wants to go home.

 

The dark haired male has been back to his childhood home for quite sometime now, but he's never really taken in the place. Explored it. If anyone asked him, he would have said that he doesn't need to. It's his birthplace, somewhere he's been long enough to the point where he's memorized it like the back of his hand.

 

But really, he doesn't know the back of his hand too well, and this place has changed. The thing is, he doesn't want to memorize anything. All the trees that have grown up and the hole-in-the-wall coffee shop are all just faded childhood memories.

 

How ironic.

 

Joshua continues down in the other direction, keeping his head down and ears sharp. He's got headphones on, sure, but the volume has to be low so he hear can footsteps and hopefully not the familiar rattle of a keychain.

 

Just living the life.

 

When Joshua reaches his apartment, he gives the ghost of a shy smile to the neighbors and ducks into the door quickly. Once inside, he sighs and doesn't bother to turn on the light. Soaking in the dark he walks to the bedroom without hitting anything - something he’s learned to do - and throws himself down onto his bed.

 

It’s been sudden, Joshua thinks, but it’s better than nothing.

 

He’s getting the hang of work as well as made a couple friends. He’s closer with Hansol than before, and the cat that sits on the fence on his way home no longer hisses and sneers when he walks by. Joshua wonders if moving across the world feels like this.

 

One hand reaches up, out towards the ceiling in a room shrouding in natural, desperate darkness. Hansol will probably call when he’s knee deep in empty sleep.

  
 

Joshua wonders when he’ll get over the fact that he moved across the globe away from his _world_.

  
 

_May._

  
 

It's Thursday, meaning the lunch special brings rush and no time to think.

 

Joshua works as a waiter to a small pizza diner with square tables and large windows to sit by on the side of the diner closest to the street. He prefers it, the Thursday rush, while the rest of his coworkers groan and pout. Hansol is one of them, a close childhood friend he never lost contact with after leaving to Korea. He grins and wiggles his eyebrows at customers when he thinks Joshua isn't looking.

 

This is good. Sweet life.

 

He swiftly sets down four cups of water and one with soda onto a table, careful that any perspirating water on the outside of the cup doesn't flick around onto the customers. Joshua smiles warmly at them when they give their spontaneous thanks.

 

Hansol rolls his eyes when Joshua turns around, smile dropping instantly as he jogs back the kitchen. The younger male is too observant for Joshua to get away with all his hidden cracks.

 

“Manager's gonna catch you and lecture you on ‘keeping the atmosphere up and lively’,” He says teasingly as Joshua sticks a ticket onto the kitchen window. Joshua smiles to himself as he grabs table four’s order.

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

Work slips by with nothing but orders and orders and Hansol on his mind, and soon he's leaving in a fresh shirt - thanks to a child spilling juice on him, but tee shirt sponsored by his workplace - and more than ready to crash back in his bed at home. Hansol laughs when he sees his urge to leave.

 

Hansol is a blessing really, Joshua thinks, because he's sunshine and laughter and no questions asked. He plays indie music that hold no lyrics that skimp around love and heavy Korean rap.

 

The days are getting easier as they go by.

 

Back in his apartment building, taking the elevator is now a walk in the park, as well as going about the complex without rush. There’s not even a rush to go into slumber now, and maybe it’s progression.

 

Joshua closes his eyes, only welcoming dreamless sleep if he can get it, and continues to ignores the ever changing ‘today’s date’ in the back of his head.

  
 

_July_

  
 

Summer is too warm and the exposure of tee shirts and tank tops - gifted personally by the one and only Choi Hansol - is a gradual change that isn’t as uncomfortable as Joshua thought it would be. Even back in Korea, Joshua wasn’t one to wear anything outside button ups and plaid shirts with arms rolled up. Shorts have always been a hit or miss for him.

 

Hansol was relentless this morning, dragging him up on their free day from work with the cries of _The beach the beach Josh! Come on, get your lazyass up!_ So now, Joshua is propped up on a bike with the wind hitting his bare forehead.

 

Hansol is swerving like the crazy kid he is, but Joshua can’t help but laugh at his friend. Best friend actually. It’s a nice change but sits awkwardly on his tongue, but he’ll blame it on the lemonade they drank earlier. Summer is strange now. Not a bad strange, nor good, but maybe neutral?

 

A lot of things have changed since the last summer, but pizza and ice cream part time jobs seem to swiftly adjust every moment between. His shoes are beat up and dirty - even if Hansol says they're his charm - and everything is comfortable.

 

There's no way bikes alone could take their city asses to the rural shore, Joshua knows, so when Hansol leads them to the bart station, the elder can't find himself to say he's surprised.

 

Hansol instantly can tell something is wrong, but doesn't press on when Joshua stops at the threshold to the station. There hasn't been an explanation for all the issues Joshua holds, but Joshua can't help but feel bad when Hansol smiles, turning around to leave the station.

 

“Your lazy ass too tired to bike to the beach?” and Hansol is laughing, horribly and without hesitance. Without _question_. Joshua isn't sure what he's done in his past life to deserve anything God has given him.

 

Joshua tries to smile as he shakes his head and rolls his bike into the building, over the thresholds he's subjected to fear. It’s one breathe, two, until Joshua realizes that things are different.

 

Without hesitance, he continues into the station, Hansol beside him.

 

The beach is bright and sunny, the area not as populated as the warmer days do. Hansol yells and runs and lets his hair blow in the wind. He even almost dragged his bike onto the sand, mind so occupied with the water. Firstly, they chain up their bikes to the fence, and then they let their hearts run free.

 

The sky is blue, the water even deeper in color, and Hansol laughs and laughs and laughs. Despite being slightly smaller, the younger comes over, picking up Joshua and throwing him into the water. Joshua swears as his only set of clothes for the day soak in the water and wet sand under the water let him sink in. Their bags lay on the higher sand alongside their shoes and Hansol’s Polaroid.

 

The pictures they take come out blurry or too bright or with fingertips in the corner of the frame, but the two can't bring themselves to care really. Hansol complains about the water making his legs dryer than the hot sand they're sitting on, but Joshua is too immersed in the Polaroid to really pay attention.

 

Has he always looked like this? With brown hair and the gleam of his earrings, standing without a care or apathy - or, is it the way he looks at the sun now?

 

Joshua's favorite is the one of them sitting in the water, their bare knees popping out onto the surface with blurry blue shading every part of them under the sea of tears. Aesthetic, Hansol had refuted as they giggled and groaned trying to get into position. Joshua, with the longer arms, held the camera up high above them, careful not the drop the camera as he clicked the button.

 

Backs together, looking up into the sky and camera, happy.

 

They stick around long enough for the dark to set in - of course with the help of Joshua's sandwiches - and they watch the sky turn every shade of the world they know. Hansol takes two pictures, handing one to Joshua.

 

“To the day of our lives,” Hansol says, holding up the tiny fragment of their day, as if to a toast. Joshua follows.

 

They sit still, side by side as another flicker of time passes with the glow of lights. Sparklers that fly and shimmer in gold and white. Hansol jokes that red would've suited the elder more than these bright, sustainable colors. Joshua can't bring himself to say that he bought these with Hansol on his mind, rather than his own preference.

 

Joshua bites his tongue, because he hasn't dropped himself yet. They both haven't dropped themselves yet.

 

Best friends is a regretful term in his book now, really.

 

In the silence they hold, Joshua cries. Not, an ugly mess of _feelings_ and hurt and all that stuff, no. Joshua cries, because he's sorry, especially when he can't bring himself to the present.

 

Hansol pats him on the back, and says ditto to that, quietly.

  
 

_October_

 

Draped in a white sheet is Hansol as he screams Boo! In front of Joshua’s apartment door. Unaffected, Joshua turns around, leaving the door open for his friend as he finishes up wrapping the cookies he’s been assigned to make.

 

Neither of them have a car, obviously, both not being able to afford one. Riding bikes aren’t an option either, with them in exaggerated - and hysterically funny - costumes, as well as the container of cookies in Joshua’s hands. They take the bus, not minding the looks they’re given.

 

It’s two stops to the bart station, and three more on bart until the two american boys reach their destination.

 

Joshua doesn’t realize all the things that have past until he’s standing on the patio of one of his coworker’s house. It’s a nice house with music only barely muffled by a closed door. It does nothing to distract the whirling emotions in his stomach as he realizes the lack of difficulty to get on and off a subway.

 

He feels guilty, because he doesn't feel guilty at all. It’s almost like betraying someone. It _is_ betraying someone.

 

Hansol pulls him into the party filled with cheap decorations and a comforting outlook. They instantly get candied, making Hansol squeak as handfuls of candy pelt them.

 

Joshua lets himself forget.

  
 

_December._

 

It’s been too long since he’s been on bart, or at least without Hansol. He feels a bit awkward, standing in the lonely lobby, trying to buy his ticket. It's right after noon, so the lobby isn't going to crowd with people until the afternoon rush.

 

The only reason he's out instead of sitting at home, listening to music on his free day, is because he needs to buy a new pair of shoes. His sneakers are all but wrecked from walking everywhere, stubborn to get his license and refusing to take any form of transportation. The lock to his bike has been (softly) stolen by his shitty best friend without notice, so his trip to the mall has to be taken some other way.

 

Joshua sighs to himself as he presses the print button, stuffing his wallet into his pocket. Maybe he’ll buy a hoodie while at the mall, thinking back to his mainly empty closet back at the apartment. It’s been a year since he’s moved in and settled, but it’s almost exactly the same as the first time he shoved the key into the lock. The machine in front of him whirls as the ticket comes out quickly.

 

If only he didn’t need decent shoes and warm clothes to survive.

 

As much as Joshua complains in his head, he’s actually okay. It's mainly because he's lazy. The outside world isn’t as heart constricting and frightening as the first week he came to America. The air isn’t filled with noise and there isn't a crowd to hide possibilities he doesn’t want to think about.

 

The escalator is a bit busier, more people riding up than down with him. A single butterfly of nervousness flutters in his stomach at the sight of the crowded station, but he pushes it down quickly. It's bustling with people as a stream of passengers get on and get off the current train, but it's almost a breath of new air. Something he didn't know he missed.

 

It's only a ten minute wait before his ride to the station he's waiting for arrives, and he hitches his backpack up a little higher to leave. Joshua waits for the people getting off first before he takes a step towards the bart.

 

But then he stops.

 

Joshua sees brown hair, and the blur of a black and white hoodie in the crowd, and he stops. People around him stare as they make their way around, no concern in their eyes and Joshua is scared. Scared of the truth and he’s trying to reason, that there’s absolutely no way and it’s honestly just a coincidence.

 

But then it comes closer to him, and when he sees the face, he backs up without a second thought. It’s two, three steps backwards into the mess of a crowd but the other is faster, more determined and then he sees him, fully.

 

Jeonghan.

 

He’s just as beautiful as the day they met, as beautiful as the day Joshua left. Jeonghan is wearing his hoodie, that damned black hoodie that ties them together, and he honestly doesn’t look like he’s aged a day. His hair is still brown, eyes still sharp with eye brows knit together.

 

“Joshua.” His tone, oh god his voice. Joshua feels his stomach drop, his heart stop and he realizes how much he misses the other’s voice, but he also knows now isn’t the time to indulge, that this _really_ isn’t the time for any of this. “Joshua, Joshua wait!”

 

The older’s words snap him back to reality and then he’s running. Weaving through people with the one person he wants, needs in life, who really shouldn’t be in America hot on his tail.

 

Joshua runs, not caring about the dirty looks he getting as he pushes through the crowd. He absolutely never plans on getting on another bart, metro, train station, or any other sort of public transportation. Worst luck ever.

 

He doesn't bother looking behind him to see if Jeonghan has given up. Joshua doesn't care whether he has or not. The only thing he wants to do is sleep and regret every single cell in his body that ever gave the benefit of the doubt that leaving his safe empty apartment to step foot onto the platform of train station would be okay. Of all days, it just had to be today.

 

Today was supposed to be relief. A breath of reassuring air that he wasn't going to come face to face with every fear and nightmare he'd formed and claimed his own within the past two years. Today was going to be a clean slate where he could step into a crowd without the protection of Hansol, without _fear_. The renewed ability to listen to sappy indie punk pop american music without wanting to cry. Today, and then forward, Joshua was going to be _okay_.

 

Joshua reaches his apartment building without realising he has until he's shoving his hand into his pockets for his keys. Sweat beads along his forehead from the sudden pace of running and stairs - the burn seeps into his legs a little, but the context of his heart hurts much more - and he takes a second to breathe.

 

He walks into the dim apartment quickly, startled by the light that fills his personal bubble. The curtains are open for once, and it's a bit like that scene in Frozen. Joshua doesn't like it. The curtain closes once again before he plops himself down onto the couch. A couple more breaths are taken when the thought occurs to him.

 

Did he imagine Jeonghan? Back at the station?

 

Joshua pushes the thought aside when he gets up, walking to the door. Jeonghan is his Mal, but not something that forces him to surrender every aspect of his life. The door opens and Jeonghan is panting in the doorway.

 

Joshua has given Jeonghan all his dreams - there's no way he'll give him his reality. Not without a fight.

 

“Joshua-” Jeonghan pants out quickly, and Joshua notes that his hair is everywhere, hair tie gone.

 

The elder pushes his way in, slipping past Joshua. The latter stands, puzzled, before he shuts the door, now unable to pry this living nightmare out.

 

Flight or fight is the real deal, but running will do nothing now, and physical fighting would be easier than whatever is about to happen. They stand without fidgeting, just breathing the same air in the darkness of the situation. Joshua can predict how this will go: Jeonghan will say something stupid, and he will too.

 

_Which will break first? Joshua wonders, the wall, the doorknob, or my left knuckle?_

 

He settles with left knuckle as he calmly walks over and punches Jeonghan in the jaw.

 

 

 

They're pretty close to committing bloody fucking murder, and not together. Not some Bonnie and Clyde shit here, oh no. It's one or the other.

 

Joshua was right. Jeonghan did say something stupid. Three words, which hurt a lot more than four. Joshua wants to laugh, to howl at how stupid Jeonghan is, but he can't because he's pacing his living room, pissed and on the verge of screaming. Or crying. Maybe both.

 

"I wasted all these sunsets on you, every single one since you left, I left - because I drank in your smell and your touch in my dreams. I sleep with the blinds closed so I couldn't remember all the times I held your hand or watched you smile with the wind blowing through your hair as the sunset set the colors away.” Joshua paces around his living room and there’s so much darkness in his head and in his eyes but Jeonghan still manages to shine. “I couldn’t fucking do it, I couldn’t forget you and I just-”

 

Jeonghan sits there, just sits there like the pretty doll of a person he is, even if he's covered in his own blood. Jaw bruising, the corner of his lip is bleeding as well. He sits still, watching Joshua with unwavering eyes and he nods, opening his mouth once or twice but no words come out.

 

“Why,” Joshua is pretty much losing it at this point, pacing faster and his hands are in his hair. His bloody knuckles are spreading red everywhere. He sounds desperate, even to himself and he knows he’s going to raise his voice and start yelling truth and words that he doesn’t really mean to throw at Jeonghan and the neighbors are going to hear. Jeonghan knows this too and Joshua hates it. “Why did you bother coming here? Could you not do it? Forget about me like you did before? You are supposed to be happy, why the fuck did you come chasing?”

 

“Because I love you.” Jeonghan’s voice is small, but not from fear, and it’s like talking to a scared animal - something that Joshua is. He’s always going to be this small animal. Again with the _I love you_ ’s “I love you too much to let you go.”

 

Wasn’t separation supposed to change them? Wasn’t the concept of time meant for past recognition and recording? _Why aren’t things changing?_

 

Joshua punches the wall, a faint stinging in his hand but he doesn’t care. “And I love you. I love you so so  fucking much and I need you and I want you but don’t you get it? I’m not supposed to have you Jeonghan! I was going to be happy, without you.”  Joshua grits out, a harsh whisper. I am happy without you. “I’m supposed to be here alone in Los Angeles and there’s a reason why I left.”

 

“To protect me?” Jeonghan says, “or to protect yourself?”

 

Joshua stops, looking up slowly to look the other in the eye. “Both. Fucking shoot me for all I care.”

 

Jeonghan laughs bitterly. “You know I wouldn’t be able to do that.”

 

Joshua continues, relentless, “You wouldn’t have remembered. You wouldn’t have remembered me if you didn’t show up at the station, or if you didn’t start to talk to me.”

 

Jeonghan sighs. “I would’ve found our box under my bed at some point.”

 

Joshua whips his head to Jeonghan, sneering. “Our box? Oh, that. I put it there, so you wouldn’t find it, because it was too late. If you saw me and couldn’t remember, what’s a couple notes and pictures going to do?”

 

“I would’ve-”

 

“No you wouldn’t have!” Joshua yells, “You wouldn’t have remembered. And even if you did, how long would it take to find that box? Another month? Another _year_? What if you didn’t find that box for another five or ten years, what if you didn’t find it at all? You over-estimate all of this.”

 

“I would’ve found it,” Jeonghan grits out. “And I would’ve gone out to find you. You underestimate me.”

 

Joshua laughs, deafening within the space of the living room. Jeonghan stands up, walking over to the large window and ripping open the curtain. Joshua makes a sound of protest, walking over to fix his shadowed room, but Jeonghan is faster, moving to grab Joshua’s wrists.

 

“Look at me Jisoo, look at _me_.” Jeonghan’s voice booms and Joshua flinches. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here, I remember. It’s been two years since I forgot, and one year since you left. I want to be by your side. And I love you, I want to love. Please let me.”

 

Joshua looks up, without hesitance. Maybe things will seem a bit more romantic, cliche, loving is he did it hesitantly. But he wishes he did, because now he’s almost taken back at how Jeonghan has this _edge_ in his eyes and words and how confident he looks. Like he knows what he's talking about as it's as easy as explaining the reason of pigmentation of a blue sky or easily list out every flaw in Joshua’s left hand.

 

(It's not his dominant for writing, even if he's ambidextrous, so it's weak. There's three scars on his palm from the second month he has been here in America, when he woke up and forgot he was here and smiled at the light coming from the curtains, before realizing and moving to destroy the curtain and cutting himself on the bar.)

 

But all these are _too_ simple, and this situation isn't, so Joshua yanks his wrist from Jeonghan’s grasp and yanks the curtain back, eloping them back into darkness. He quickly turns to push Jeonghan back onto to couch, or maybe against the window, but then Jeonghan is dead set, looking into his eyes and refusing to look away.

 

Joshua’s eyes rip away from the older, body moving without thinking and Jeonghan grabs him again, grip strong enough that Joshua thinks there is a possibility of bruises tomorrow. He can't squirm away though - he'll give him props another day. He's forced to look at Jeonghan, and there's is so much fear in his heart and it's rushing through his veins, the fight or flight response and flight is pounding in his fingertips. Telling him to r _un, go go now before you do something stupid._

_Yeah,_ Joshua thinks somewhere in the back of his mind. _Like stay._

 

“Why can't you understand?” Joshua is pulled a little closer, Jeonghan’s lowered voice rich in his ear. “Why don't you understand I love you?”

 

Something in Joshua snaps. “It's because you don't.”

 

Jeonghan pushes him away at four words and Joshua laughs from the bottom of his heart with so much despise as well as acceptance and he's on the verge of moving to flip their positions to force his words down Jeonghan’s throat. Make him understand. That love is non existent and what Jeonghan feels isn't love anymore. That love was sitting under the small tree next to garden with Jeonghan laying on the bench and himself on the ground next to him. Love was ripping Jeonghan’s clothes, and crying in guilt when he found out, them going shopping afterwards.

 

Love was everything they had, and Joshua will not let Jeonghan use some shitty four letter word to deface what they had.

 

“If I kiss you, could you say that you don’t feel a single thing?” Jeonghan makes no move to subdue him, instead he looks to ground. “If I held your hand and sang to you, right now, could you say your heart didn’t move?

 

“If I fucked you into the sheets tonight and gave you everything I took, would you be able to say that you don’t love me?” Joshua flinches, again, for the umpteenth time tonight and he sick of it, really. He’s sick of the fighting and the truth and he’s honestly just tired. Jeonghan doesn’t move when he says, “I love you and I am so sorry.”

 

\---

 

The light is absolutely blinding when Joshua finds himself awake, unable to open his eyes. The curtains let in bright sunlight that he isn’t all that accustomed to, but even then the sun is too happy for the early morning. There isn’t an alarm clock ringing in his ears, so Joshua takes it that it’s earlier than eight in the morning, but he knows there isn’t work today. It’s Saturday. Joshua never works on Saturdays anyway.

 

His body is sore, head groggy, but his hair is greasy and he feels so nasty that he forces himself to sit up and try to collect his thoughts. It takes only about a minute for Joshua understand the situation, and he sighs loudly when he does.

 

A dream. It was just a dream.

 

Joshua pushes himself off the bed, not bothering to close the curtains. He’s without a shirt, probably having taken it off last night during his emotional collapse, but there isn’t enough fucks residing in Joshua’s mind for him to worry about flashing his bare back to the apartment building next to his bedroom window. Closing the curtains to return his room back to darkness sounds like a great idea, but the ringtone that fills the room stops him from doing so. Hansol, he can recognize by the adjusted song, and it probably means the younger is coming over.

 

Joshua sighs again, feeling throat getting tired from doing so. The last thing he needs to do today is have to deal with his friend and explain the situation. Hansol means light filled rooms and jokes. After grabbing a pair of briefs and the tee shirt lying on the edge of his bed, he decides to scar his younger friend.

 

The shower is quick and soothing - though it stings a little - in a dark bathroom and without steam in the air. Cold water, to clear his head, and also just to be a safe haven. The only comfort Joshua has left.

 

Once he finishes, he grabs his phone, only sparing his messy bed a second long glance before he walks out to his kitchen. Just as Joshua suspected, Hansol is on his way over to hang out.

 

There was this vine Hansol sent a month back, a good edit with an even better song. No original song could be found besides the edit, so Joshua download the audio and kept the six second clip in his favorites and most played playlist. He turns the song on repeat, almost hitting full blast as he sets it down to start making breakfast.

 

Instead of his usual whole grain noodles, he grabs a couple packets instant ramen, ripping them open without any grace. He starts up a large pot of water, watching it silently before he reached for a smaller pot.  If he’s going to be unhealthy today, might as well go full out.

 

Joshua thinks back to the dream he had last night. The wistfulness of a dark summer night, and the sound of steps on an empty sidewalk. A warm hand in his and the taste of laughter on his lips. He looks down at his hands, the bruises along his knuckles and the annoying metal on his finger.

 

He’s in the middle of sorting out cups, dumping instant coffee powder into each when two arms snake around his waist, pulling him into a warm body. Joshua sighs audibly, and a rumble of concealed laughter makes the back of his neck vibrate.

 

“I didn’t hear you open the door.” Joshua says, reaching over for the sugar jar. One of the arms leave his waist to bring it to him instead. Joshua doesn’t thank him.

 

“You left it open,”

 

 _Should’ve locked it instead_ , Joshua thinks to himself as he finished stirring the sugar and powder. Both pots are still with smooth waters, no sign of any bubbles yet. He pries the arms away and walks to the other cabinet to grab a couple bowls. They work in silence, but Joshua knows he wants to say something.

 

Tired, Joshua whips around, glaring. “If you want to say something, say it.”

 

Jeonghan laughs from where he's standing. He's leaning against the counter, arms crossed. Joshua almost despises the shitty smile on his face.

 

Almost.

 

A sudden gleam catches the american male’s eye, and when Joshua looks down, he sees a silver band on the fourth finger of Jeonghan’s hand. A spark of annoyance runs through Joshua’s veins, heating the tip of his ears in angry embarrassment. Marching over to the other male, Joshua holds back the urge to strangle him.

 

Jeonghan smiles happily, and that's what takes the cake.

 

“You're sick, you know that?” Joshua spouts angrily as Jeonghan's hands grab at his wrists, pulling their bodies together. Jeonghan lets go to hook his hands together behind Joshua's back, resting his chin on the latter's shoulder. “I'm absolutely repulsed.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” comes the simple reply. “Have I mentioned that you look good wearing my shirt?”

 

Joshua huffs. “I don't know why it's one size too big for you. Really stupid if you ask me.”

 

A few seconds pass that fills the kitchen in silence. Jeonghan murmurs slowly into his shoulder, “Sorry for making you cry so much last.”

 

“Stop lying - you get off on that.”

 

The front door opens, making them both jump at the sound. Hansol is in the threshold, a plastic bag in his hand. “What's up- who is this?”

 

Hansol’s face is somewhere between mortified and surprised, alongside confused. Joshua can't blame him; he would be too.

 

But at the question at hand, Joshua wonders the answer to that as well. He wonders if the answer is in the light filled bedroom down the hall, or in the sickening love song filled dream he had last night. Whether if it's in the regrets he spent the last year living in, or the pot of boiling water behind him.

 

Or if it's finally in the one word he'd never thought he'd say in that specific context. In the silver band on his own fourth finger that Joshua spent running his fingers over this morning while taking a shower in the dark. Sudden silver bands appearing after a heart constricting night of empty spaces filled and screaming shouldn't mean anything, but for some reason, they do.

 

“He's my fiance,” Joshua sighs out, pulling away from Jeonghan who looks surprised but when a few seconds pass, Joshua knows there's an ecstatic smile on the elder’s face. The boiling water going into cups and bowls, the pots set aside. Hansol makes a loud noise of protest when Joshua is grabbing three eggs from the fridge and he smiles to himself.

 

“Come on Josh! I haven't seen your upper legs since I was fifteen I did not need a reminder-” and the kitchen fills with Jeonghan's laugher, as well as Hansol’s screeching and inhuman noises.

 

There hasn't been this much life in his apartment in so long, besides from the small glimpses of Hansol, but Joshua thinks that it's okay. Just a little.

 

Jeonghan moves from his spot against the counter to help Joshua move bowls and mugs to the counter where Hansol has seated himself. Joshua points to the first drawer beside the stove when Jeonghan asks where the utensils are, but doesn't ask for Joshua's explanation. Joshua wonders whether Jeonghan really cares for one at this point.

 

Without a word, Joshua walks over to where Jeonghan is, the latter with hands filled with spoons and metal chopsticks. He tilts his head up, just enough to press his lips to Jeonghan's, and he can hear both Jeonghan's noise of surprise and Hansol’s disgusted squeak.

 

Jeonghan responds too late, because Joshua is already pulling back, lips hovering. Joshua thinks maybe Jeonghan will try for another kiss, but what he gets is Jeonghan's wonderful smile, barely, almost brushing against his.

 

If things have to lead back to the start, where nothing is except rash judgement and things to be better than they are, then Joshua will take it.

 

He'll take it all.

 

* * *

 

_end._

 

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> and so the seasons running wild series comes to an end. thank you guys so much, and its kinda confusing lol. if you guys have any questions, or just wanna stop by and say hi, my ig : callme.atlas and tumblr : callmeatlas comment and kudos are highly appreaciated (plus, i wanna know if you guys cried again lol)
> 
>  
> 
> Love, Atlas.  
> (crossposted on aff)


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